Belonging
by CoconutsAndJelly
Summary: Amelia Rosalie Montague-Douglas-Scott does NOT belong in a care home, never mind the Dumping Ground! Whatever way she could, she was getting back to her Grandmother; no one could stop her.
1. Chapter 1

They were late. In fact, they were later than late, they were almost rude in their belated arrival.

Finally, Mike looked up as the familiar rumble of gravel echoed through the house. All the children gathered around in the living room, milling about and waiting conspicuously for their newest arrival.

_Buzz…Buzz_

All the children's attention was on the door as they waited for Mike to bring her in, having only been told a new girl would be arriving. Gathering up the courage, Mike strode to wards the firm oak, gripping the handle as another impatient buzz called. Answering the door, Mike saw something… unexpected.

Maya POV

It's official: I hate social workers.

I've never _really_ fit in any of the care homes I was sent to, but the journeys, those are the worst. Sitting in a ridiculously ancient, slow-as-anything car with THE most annoying type of person in the entirety of this universe, is a dragged out, seemingly never-ending experience; a form of torture that child should never have to repeat.

To be honest, I'm not like most care kids; I've been in the system for around a year now, but unlike the others in each home, I'm not from a rough background. My name is Amelia Rosalie Montague-Douglas-Scott.

I am to inherit of over £10, 000, 000 in off shore investments, I can enunciate, and I have never once physically harmed anyone. This is my seventh care home in less than six months; apparently I'm not suited to their lifestyles. Having been tossed from place to place like a coin I'm pretty sure I've seen most of the country with my care worker, Jake.

Jake, in my opinion, is a grown-up child. As he pulled up to the newest disaster, I watched in fascination when he managed to lock all the doors as he switched off the car. But, fun as it was to watch him frantically pressing buttons, I sighed, exasperated. Suddenly the show cut short; when the car door he was leaning on clicks open from one of the many buttons, sending him flying across the drive and swearing furiously.

"Honestly Jacob, when are you going to learn to calm down, and do things right!" I said, opening my door then daintily closing it without making a kerfuffle, and walking over to him. I crouched down and snatched his keys away, finally shutting his door using the automatic lock.

"You're a ridiculous man-child. Grandmamma wouldn't accept this aggravating behaviour from a _toddler_, let alone an adult. Obviously she raised me correctly, unlike your mother, who seems to of left you to learn for yourself. Grandmamma would never do that to me," I chastised, subtly reminding him of my annoyance at being dragged from my family – however not kicking and screaming, this situation is degrading enough without loosing all my dignity.

I often speak of my Grandma around Jake; he says that I am a pest who does not know when to silence myself, but little does he know; I'm subconsciously keeping my family and my real home fresh in his mind. Mother always said that the best of debaters were never confrontational, only reminded their opponents of their genius using strategically placed subjection. I found out it's called passive-aggressive protesting.

"God, just, go and introduce yourself whilst I grab my bags. But remember what Grandmamma told you when we left," I called behind me to the mess of a man I call my guardian as I strolled gracefully toward the car.

After several months in my own personal hell, I have come to appreciate constants. My most treasured constants were the weekend each month I got to spend with Grandmamma, not that she ever makes and effort; the thought that as soon as I was 18 I could go back home and what I like to call the 'wayfaring wardrobe'. My entire collection of designer tops, skirts, jumpers, jeans and my vintage shoes and accessories all fit into my petite, yet spacious, Versace leather suitcase. It had an old, musky scent, which only ancient leather could achieve. It was a family heirloom, passed down from mother to daughter for centuries.

What I wore that day was a particular favourite of mine, outfit-wise. It wasn't often that I wore something from my more, elegant selection. Generally preferring to acquire a few sets of clothes from wherever I was at that time. I marvelled at the way my vintage strawberry red skirt swished in the breeze. It complemented the cream bralet that I wore underneath a beige blazer from Givenchy.

I hauled my suitcase out of the car and sighed at the familiar sound of my red suede T-bar heels against the gravel. Each step felt like a marathon as thoughts and fears rushed through my brain a million miles a minute. Jake buzzed the door as I came up to stand by him.

_Buzz…Buzz_

Nothing happened. After a few seconds and some loud noises from the other side of the door, I buzzed it again, getting impatient. Whilst I waited, I admired the oak finish on the front door, when suddenly it swung open, leaving a tall, gentle-looking man and a small child with a giraffe.

This is my new 'family'.

* * *

Mike POV

I stared at this, phenomenon, for a few seconds before Harry poked me with his giraffe. I snapped my head down to him immediately, shattering the trance-like state this young woman (she could not be described as anything other) had coaxed me into.

"Jeff says you're being rude!" He declared, the slight lilt in his voice making him sound like a baby.

"Well young man, Jeff is precisely right," articulated a mesmerizing voice, the flowing tones of her voice oozing class.

"So sorry we're late, mate. Traffic was horrible and I had no way of getting here earlier. She'll be fine though, she's used to me daft behaviour," mumbled a lanky, blonde man, grumbling as he mentioned his charge.

The girl exhaled heavily, "Jake, you have the most unfortunate inclination of mentioning every single negative attribute you posses when you strike up a conversation. It is most unbecoming! You ought to-"

"Yes Amelia, I must listen to your Grandmamma and straighten my life out as I am never to succeed as a mere scuff on a real man's shoe," he gritted out, teeth grinding so roughly you could almost hear them scrape, "but this is not about me, this is about you, and the fact you are in your **seventh** care home because of comments like that. Now go inside, straight to Mike's office. Then you can meet the residents of your new _home_. Mike if you would…" he trailed off, pointing toward the hall behind me.

I stared at the scene before me: a silently seething young lady, a knowing she had lost this argument burning in her forced visage, and a seemingly calm social worker with an obvious glint of triumph in his eyes. The tension between these two was palpable.

Looking from one to the other, it wasn't until Harry wrapped his tiny fingers around my wrist that I sprang into action, ushering the two through the hall and into my office. After they sat, I took Harry to the door.

"Hey, why don't you and Jeff go tell the others all about how nice Amelia is?" I whispered.

"Okay! Jeff likes Melia," he smiled, running as fast as his little pale legs could carry him. I smiled, his innocence radiating from his bright smile, and then turned to deal with our newest recruit.

* * *

Amelia POV

I peered at the social workers before me: Michael, Gina and Tracy. They had sat me in a child's seat, meaning that I was forced to look up at all times to see them. Mike was smiling at me, and it shone clear in his crystal blue eyes – I had never had anyone smile at me sincerely before, only the untruthful tugs of lips from past houses. He seemed kind, cheerful and warm-hearted; I had gaged that he was very experienced and therefore highly regarded by his co-workers. He was beginning to bald, his grey hair scarce on his head; his sense of dress was plain: a casual shirt that covered a top, and unfussy trousers.

Gina seemed… out-going.  
Her hair was completely unprofessional: thick strands of dark braided hair were only just restrained by a bandeau of indescribable colour, purple, blue and brown fused together. Her eccentric t-shirt glared boldly in the bland, brown and dreary room, screaming for the attention of every person in it. Her smile beamed at me, almost as vivid as her blouse but behind those eyes another personality hid, a wrath suppressed so deep it only escaped in times of completely overwhelming rage. Other than that, she seemed nice enough.

The last one was called Tracy.  
I didn't like her.

"Hello Amy, welcome to Elm Tree House! I'm sure you'll have a fab time here and all the other children are pretty cool," the youngest woman giggled irritatingly.

"Excuse me, but my name is Amelia. You should know this; it is on my file, as is my life story, supposedly, along with countless opinions on my behaviour and past," I frowned. I despised that folder; even the notion that my entire life was written down somewhere for anyone to access was completely mortifying however, having failed several attempts to retrieve it for myself, I had succumbed to the control of the care system.

"Stop being difficult, you know it annoys people!" my petty social worker jibed, knowing full well it annoyed the hell out of me. Mike glared at him, giving me reason to smirk.

"Okay _Amelia_," Mike affirmed, smiling encouragingly, "You are 15, so that means your bedtime is at 10 o'clock. There are two boys and a girl the same age as you, but you'll meet them later. You're allowed out at the weekend without a guardian, but you must carry your phone on you in case of emergencies and you must be back for 6 o'clock. Now, any trouble will not go unpunished, so you've been warned. Any questions?"

"Yes, my school. How can I continue to attend the Westgate School if it's three hours away in Hampshire?" I questioned, my thoughts drifting to Millie and Imogen at my last school.

"About that, I'm afraid that we will be moving you, Amelia. Starting next Monday, you shall be going to the state school in town," he informed, his eyes searching for sign of an outburst - I guess his other charges are violent.  
I was horrified at the thought of leaving my friends, but as Grandmother always said, poise before temperament.

"I see," I began, turning to Jake, "You were planning to inform me of this when, exactly?"

"Er, well, it were Kelly's idea to send you 'ere! I didn't know most of the details," he grovelled, what a coward.

"Well, do you want to meet the kids Amelia?" Gina asked, her smile waning.

"Why not," I relented, standing up and making my way into the hall. The other social workers followed our lead as Gina walked past one door then approached the next.


	2. Chapter 2

As we walked toward the door, the muffled voices got louder and more distinguishable. The fact that these accents and tones were utterly bizarre to me was unnerving, my ears being unaccustomed to the mesh of people. To know that a whole family of children who had prepared for your arrival were on the other side of that door, chatting amiably all about you was terrifying, but I was a Montague-Douglas-Scott, and nothing, not even trepidation of the unknown, could waver my resolve. They were merely children, no harm in that whatsoever.

Staring at the door, I wondered how they would act. I had met some strange cases in past houses: boys that were a bit _too_ physical with their opinion, girls who looked like they'd fallen into a vat of foundation then climbed out with a lipstick rope. Grandmamma always told me that too much make-up is vulgar and unsightly. I once tried my friend's eyeliner and Grandmamma caught me…

As Gina opened the door, the noise stopped. She stood in the doorway, her form defence against –at this moment in time- my most momentous fear. Neither could they see me, nor I see them; the tension was palpable. I was cautious of the silence, knowing full well it meant their full attention was on the figure that concealed me.

Jake, even with all his faults, patted me on the shoulder in comfort, his hand seemingly there to bolster my confidence. He leaned down to me and I could feel his breath on my neck.

"Hey kid, you'll be okay, and if you ain't, I'll be here to pick you up in a flash, just like I always am," he whispered, his voice cracking. I turned at the sound and was shocked to see my reckless and ingenuous Jake with tears gathering in his eyes but even more shocked to feel the cool path of a salty tear flow slowly down my face. In what was perhaps my most spontaneous moment I picked my arms from where I had contained them, loosened the tight fists that my fingers had curled into and almost squeezed my social worker as I held him in a tight embrace. In that moment, he was my lifeline, I clutched to him as if he would understand through my action that I didn't belong here and I never would, that I needed to go back home, no matter what social services, the doctors or anyone said. With a deep breath I let go, the tears had stopped and I looked perfectly natural. Jake smiled at me, floppy blond hair shining in the light of the sun through the stained glass, brightening the twinkle in his eyes. His gentle orbs comforted me in my time of need, and as I a stared at the captivating serene blue he seemed almost wise. Then he winked cheekily and I snapped out of it. He smiled encouragingly and I turned around and came face to face with Gina's back.

Gina took a few steps into the room, every daunting movement feeling like one step closer to the end of my life, she revealed me to the group and there they were. I felt bare, exposed, and naked even, under their piercing gaze. I knew exactly where I stood in this situation; they were superior, they were in charge, and to them, I was nothing: inferior, below par, outranked by each and every one. I felt the eyes burn into my skin, like lasers on my nude flesh; I had never received this type of reception before.

Generally, the children would scream diatribes at me and attempt to beat me then the care workers would tear them of me and that was the end of that. I'd never seen care kids be so, so civil, even if they were being incredibly discourteous. I decided to blame the slight rush of colour to my cheeks on my reception, rather than the fact I felt like a donkey in a skirt.

The silence did not last, as I had expected it to. Mike, the kind and friendly man he is, decided to introduce me.

"Everyone, this is Amelia; as Harry may have told you, she's a lovely girl and will be rooming with him until a room of her own is available," Mike encouraged from behind me. There was an awkward silence, as no one knew what to say. A few of the younger kids nodded at Mike in acknowledgement.

Suddenly, the little boy with the giraffe –I assumed that was Harry- ran towards me, grabbed my hand and pulled me out the room. He sped down the hall and straight toward a large staircase, and I was afraid he would slip and hurt himself, but he managed to navigate his way up the stairs and tugged me along with him. I only heard a faint cry of, "But, what about the tour?" before I was trampling up the stairs, the decree of a 6-year-old boy.

…

I looked across the room and smiled at Harry as I saw him sitting cross-legged on the floor. His dim crimson t-shirt had crumpled up as he hunched over, deforming the image of a giraffe it proudly displayed, his trusty sidekick, Jeff, stuffed into his lap. I had never seen a child so fragile and pale until Harry, his milky skin almost shining. His fair blonde locks were strewn across his face messily, as if he'd just got out of bed; his doe-eyes were radiant, an essence of playfulness and innocence you just couldn't fault. I watched him as he read his book, enjoying the almost-solitude. I giggled at his concentrated face and his head snapped up. The question in is his cobalt orbs were clear, 'what _are_ you doing?' so I slid down onto the floor, ignoring the crease I was making that I knew would take ages to smooth, and whispered,

"What are you reading, mister?"

I don't know what it was about Harry's room, but I could feel it radiating tranquillity, pacifying me into a serene state. It was the antithesis of Grandmamma's, where everything had to be arranged in a rational and orderly fashion, actions were logical and systematic, never any room for error; in that house, everything had a place and everything was in its place, the place it was supposed to be. Since I was so comfortable, Harry had kept me in his room for most of the day, though I was beginning to wonder when lunch was.

"It's about a duck who's gone to dentist, but I can't think. Melia, I'm hungry!" he murmured, his voice getting louder as he whined his realisation. I could tell he was getting restless, but I didn't want to disturb his eating pattern.

"**Dinner!"** bellowed a deafening voice, leaving my ears ringing and a grin on Harry's face at my reaction. I frowned mockingly, tapped the top of his nose and said,

"Perfect timing, lead the way, cheeky!"

He beamed at me and ran out the door, I giggled again and followed.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry and I raced down the stairs, something I don't think I'd ever done before.

My Grandmamma did not allow me to run; she said it was unladylike and only commoners ran. But as we sped down the hall toward the stairs, oblivious to the banging of our feet that spread around the house, I completely loved it. It was liberating, to know that you were moving almost as fast as the wind, not knowing your destination: I felt like I could run forever.

When we reached the staircase, Harry jumped down the first step, but I put my hand on his shoulder, effectively halting him. If I were to meet these children, I would need a hand to hold. It's okay to hold the hand of an 8-year-old, right?

Harry looked at me in total innocence and confusion, wondering why I'd stopped our fun game, so I grabbed his had, interlocked our fingers and beamed at him then proceeded to walk down the stairs, my nerves building with each inch. We reached the bottom of the banister and Harry led me gently to a large kitchen and dining area.

We both paused at the doorway, seemingly unnoticed by the gaggle of children, Tracy and Mike who were sat around a crowded wooden table. There was a new one, a boy around my age. He had freckles on his pale skin and brown hair swept across his face. He was quite handsome, his impish grin reeled me in for a second; then I saw the look in his eye, mischievousness and scheming, they seemed to cry, so I averted my eyes.

Harry tugged on our connected hands and I looked down at him, the apprehension clear on my face. He seemed to understand that I was worried, though I doubt he knew why, so he pulled me gently to his level and shakily stood on his tippy-toes to reach my ear.

"Melia, will you stay with me? I want to keep you safe…" he whispered, and I could almost feel his longing. It was at times like these, where someone else gave me comfort that I wondered about home, about whether I was fabricating the perfect life, when it wasn't at all how it seemed. I had given that particular theory a lot of my time and effort, but I always came to the same conclusion: no matter what they'd done; they love me, don't they?

"Of course; I'd love that Harry," I replied, and kissed the top of his head. I loved the feel of his soft, wispy locks; they made me feel safe, but unwillingly turned back to the table where my new housemates sat. What I did not expect was those glaring eyes from before. Mike was looking at me sympathetically, as if he knew exactly how I felt –which I knew he didn't – and that Tracy girl had a ridiculously over-the-top grin on her face that seemed to scream falsity. I squeezed my eyes shut for just a second, and dreamt of my home; when I opened them, I was still here.

Somehow I managed to find my way to a seat, Harry's hand still clutched tight in mine; he was my lifeline at that moment, and he made me strong.

Fortunately, Gina then came over with a few plates, each holding a strange yellow circle that smelt strongly of cheese. It had a greyish border and splashes of red hidden the greasy yellow top. I had never seen it before, but as I wondered what it was the other kids looked at it hungrily.

"Okay guys, tuck in," Gina exclaimed, coming to sit on the other side of me.

Suddenly the dining room was a cacophony of noise as chairs scraped, children shouted and arms reached out from all corners. They all seemed to be headed for that strange food. I looked up at Mike, who was smiling fondly at the rowdy brood. You could tell that he thought of them as his own children, but he had enough experience to know that they would all leave one day. Finally, once all the children were munching his gaze met my confused eyes, and I could see his transition from amused to concerned.

"Amelia, what's wrong?" he asked; his eyes moved from my plate to my face then back to my plate.

"Yeah babe, why aren't you eating?" Gina added as she looked down at my empty plate and put down her own piece of the oily, yellow cuisine.

"Em, what is it?" I questioned nervously and glanced around at the chomping children who surrounded me. After the large family had comprehended what I'd said, they looked up in shock.

"It's pizza," a boy across from me stated, as if I was stupid. I looked down, ashamed at his condescending tone; it was just how Grandmamma used to talk to me.

"Have you never eaten pizza before?" a quiet girl asked kindly. I went to answer her but another girl - Hispanic I think - interrupted her.

"How can you not know that?" she screamed, and I winced at her high-pitched squeal.

"I swear everyone eats pizza!" a boy about the same age shouted, making me feel even more left excluded.

"Oh my god, how stupid can you get!" a boisterous girl with electric blue highlights laughed cruelly, before finally she was cut of by Mike.

"Okay guys, that's enough!"

By now my eyes were filling with tears, but I couldn't let go, couldn't cry; you never cry in front of the enemy.

"Amelia, how come you've never eaten pizza? They must have given it to you in the other care homes…" Mike asked, his eyes gleaming curiously.

"No, Jake told all the other care homes what I eat, so I ate in the room I stayed in. I figured since he didn't tell you, you all ate the same. I'm so sorry for causing you an inconvenience, I'll just have breakfast tomorrow." I said, ashamed I'd bought the subject up. Here was a nice man, offering me a bed to sleep in, a shower to bathe in, food to eat and I was screwing it up; trying to ask for things I didn't deserve or need. The guilt seeped through my very bones, till it reached my mouth; I figured he would punish me sooner than later.

"No, I didn't-" Mike started, but I interrupted him even if I shouldn't have done that either. I felt so mortified at what I'd done: been greedy and spoken out of turn. I'd have been killed by now if we were at Grandmamma's, this man was so kind.

"Evening," I nodded to him, and walked off as gracefully as I could, trying to keep my eyes open.

Pools of salt water gathered at my eyelids as I walked the stairs. My clouded eyes had turned grey, and I had to face up to the inevitable storm. I had managed to keep myself composed until I reached Harry's room: I shut the door carefully and leant against it, sliding my body slowly down to the floor. As great drops fell from my eyes; the heavy rain clouds in my mind let loose their burden: memories rushed though my mind, memories of Grandma, of what she had done; memories of father, who was always content to escape on business trips; and memories of mother, of dear mother, who never deserved the pain she received.

I just couldn't take it, the unrelenting and unrepentant tempest of thoughts whirled through my head, dizzying, bewildering and harrowing. Unable to flee my head, I collapsed to the floor, a devastating heap, and flooded the floor as best I could.

* * *

Liam POV

"Mike, who was tha'?" I asked through a mouthful of pizza, my thoughts running wild with thoughts of the fit girl who just got insulted.

"That is your newest housemate, Amelia. She's rooming with Harry and she's a very kind and beautiful young woman. Which is why I'm so disappointed in you for being so cruel! That poor girl has gone through hell and back, and I expect you to be kind to her from now on, you got it?" he shouted. In fact, his voice was so loud I was worried that she might hear.

"Melia is really nice; you're not nice like her!" Harry wailed. I looked over at the little guy and I could see the distress on his face. He obviously liked the girl but I could see why; she seemed really nice and polite, which is Harry all over.

"She's an idiot, has she ever even been to a care home?" Jonny snarled, annoyed at being told off.

"Yeah," Electra agreed, "that girl looks like she belongs in Buckingham Palace, not a run down place like this. What was she even wearing, her school uniform?"

"I thought she looked nice, that skirt was pretty," Tee complemented, I was pleased she tried to make the conversation more positive.

"Guys! What did I just say? Now, Harry as soon as you're done with dinner I want you to go and check Amelia and the rest of you, you're going straight to bed as punishment!" Mike screamed. He seemed quite taken with this girl.

I tried to remember what she looked like: her hair was ginger, her lips plump and rosy. Her eyes were a midnight chocolate, like an abyss you couldn't escape. She was quite small and slender. Petite, pretty and polite: what a great combination. I can't imagine why the others would be mean to her. I mean, sure, she didn't know what pizza is and yeah, she had spent all day with Harry without introducing herself but they were the same way when they started. Scared, confused and hidden. I wonder what happened to her to bring her here.

"Liam, you're tidying up with Tee and Rick but you guys don't have to go to your rooms. Is that alright?" Mike asked, pulling me back to reality. Thinking it over, I realized that Harry and us were the only ones who were nice to her. I nodded to him with my signature grin, hoping that he didn't realize that my mind was fixed on that sweet smile and beautiful body. I got up and headed over to the sink where Rick was already filling the tub. He looked like he was thinking about her too, so I decided to get a second opinion.

"Hey Rick," I asked.

"Yeah," he replied, distracted by the flooding sink.

"What do you think about that girl then?"

"Well, she seems pretty nice, fit too," he grinned over to me; his eyes said he knew something I didn't. As soon as he'd said it, I felt a tightening in my stomach and my hands curled into fists; I don't know why, but I reacted really badly. I tried to seem calm as I forced a grin back.

"She's alright,"

"Have you seen her around school, 'cause I know I haven't,"

"I don't know. Reckon she's older than us?"

"Nah, probably the same age; you never know until you ask with care kids,"

"Yeah," I nodded and thought it over. If she was older than us, shouldn't she be in a halfway house?

"I guess we'll find out soon enough mate, until then you're just gonna have t' live not knowing. Think you can do that?" he winked and laughed, nudging my shoulder as he did it.

What did that mean? Did he think I liked her? Nah, I couldn't like her, she's not my type, too posh. I decided to make sure Rick knew that as well.

"She's proper posh thought, ain't she? I doubt her parents did much to her, probably just din't give her what she wanted one day so she ran off," I rambled, trying to cover up my apparently clear interest in her, "She's a bit-"

"Mate, I wouldn't say that." he interrupted, making this weird face as he did it, but I just kept insulting her.

"weird if you ask me, I mean who doesn't like pizza. I don't think she belongs here, to be honest" I finished; glad Rick didn't have that teasing look on his face anymore.

"Oh, that's what you think?" I heard from a honey-sweet voice behind me. I swirled around as fast as I could and came face to face with Amelia, the girl i'd just been falsely offending and secretly admired. I started to stutter, not sure how to defend what i'd just said. 'I'm so stupid!' I screamed at myself mentally.

"I-I- I didn't"

"Well, you can forget about me being kind to you. I came to help you with your chores, but I shan't help you now. What is it with boys and immaturity, you're like twins, always together." She sighed exasperatedly, whirled around and flounced out of the kitchen.

"Well mate," Rick started, patting me on the shoulder, as I looked on, dumbfounded, at the door frame, "you're screwed."

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading! I know i've been incredibly slow with updating, but i wanted to give you the best I had and what I'd written before was _not _my best. **

**Lots of love,**

**Emmy. x**


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